


This Night, Of All Nights

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Peter Parker, Boys Kissing, But I'm Playing God Here so FFH Did Not Exist, But Then Again So Is Harley, Celebrating Six Months Since Endgame, College, Comfort/Angst, Drinking, Four Years After Endgame and Peter Needs A Hug, Gay Harley Keener, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Peter is Vaguely Pissed Off At Society, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The year is 2027.“I'm Harley Keener,” the guy says, and oh, Peter does know him. He knows that name. “I know it's been a couple years, but do you remember me by any chance?”“Kind of.” It's a faint recollection- the lone boy standing by himself near the log house, dressed in black. Peter's memory is hazy, but he doesn't think he spoke to Harley. “You were at the funeral?”“Yep,” Harley knocks back his tequila in one go. “The random kid at the back that nobody knew.”“You were the one from Tennessee,” Peter says slowly, just in case he's getting this wrong. “Tony... broke into your garage.”“Yeah, he did, and I nearly shot him with a potato gun for it.” Harley sighs. “Didn't think that was gonna change my life, but here I am now, going to uni on Tony’s money and fucking depressed now because of him.”Four years to the day after Tony's death, and Peter could use a little company.





	This Night, Of All Nights

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a little over six months now since Endgame was released, I had a long weekend off of school and I felt compelled to do something to mark that event. So here you go!
> 
> I don't know how explicit this fic will seem to you, but I marked it as M just to be on the safe side. 
> 
> I do my own editing/proofreading, so if you see any errors, just let me know in the comments. Otherwise, enjoy!

It’s 9:20pm on a Saturday night, and Peter Parker is _not_ having a good time.

The bartender’s been giving him weird looks for the past hour or so. Not that Peter blames him. He wandered in this place at around 5 o’ clock, showed the guy his ID to prove that (finally) he’s 21 and allowed to be drinking, and told him to keep the shots coming. Dude’s probably wondering why he’s not passed out on the floor yet, but Peter’s metabolism ensures that it’ll take a lot more than this to make him tipsy.

Besides, Peter’s gotten blackout drunk on this day for the last couple years, hiding in his dorm room when he wasn’t old enough to drink in public, and it only left him with big regrets and a bigger headache. So he’s trying something different this time, just drinking enough to take the immediate edge off.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s not absolutely miserable.

Maybe it would be easier if he had someone with him, Peter muses, but MJ's got her big project to work on and Ned had a date with Betty, and Peter told them 'don't worry about me, go do your thing'. Even Flash is likely being fucked in the back of some club somewhere.

He could have some more casual company if he wanted. Peter's been hit on by three girls and two guys already; he could probably get at least a third of the people in the bar to come back to his dorm with him, but again, this is a day that he wants to mean something. So he's stuck alone, sulking at the bar with nothing but his own thoughts.

Peter doesn't know why he's still here, really. Every television in the place is at full volume, and for once instead of banal sports it's got the news, spouting something on repeat along the lines of 'War Hero Tony Stark Mourned'. Iron Man. Tony Stark. Avenger. Legend. Icon.

Around the city, people are celebrating. _Celebrati__ng_. The first year, it was real mourning. Three years after that, and it's nothing but a party.

_ Well, at least the Tony they all __thought they knew __would be proud,_ Peter thinks wryly, and gulps down another sip of whiskey. He guesses that he should feel guilty for not wanting other people to rejoice, because his day of grief was a day of victory for others, but at the moment he can't bring himself to care.

Every so often the news cuts away from the fans in the streets to show snippets of the speech Pepper made earlier in the day, Rhodey and Happy on one side and Morgan on the other. But even those words are just for the public, Peter knows, and she'll be mourning in her own way later. He already phoned Pepper yesterday, just to check in, though the conversation was nothing more than the usual pleasantries and empty condolences. Peter's been trying to move on since that fateful battle, and although Pepper says that he can always go to her if he needs help, she’s been kind enough to let him go. So yeah, he's trying. And every year on this day it feels like he’s failing.

“Today marks the fourth yearsince Tony Stark's sacrifice. He gave his life to undo the Decimation,” one news anchor reports, “saving billions of lives around the globe.” No, it was more than that. There's a full galaxy out there of different worlds, different realms, so it was more like trillions of lives that he died for. And Peter was one of them.

*****

Fifteen minutes or so pass, and Peter's considering leaving when another guy sidles up to the bar next to him.

“One shot of tequila, please,” he signals to the bartender, before glancing at Peter. “Hey, AC/DC shirt, nice.” Peter's mouth tilts in a hint of a smile, but he doesn't look up.

“You know, I've seen you around campus a couple times,” the guy says conversationally. Alright, so he's another NYU student. Figures, since Peter didn't bother straying far from the university grounds. “and when I walked in you seemed kinda lonely here by yourself, thought you were maybe having a rough night.” Okay, Peter knows where this is leading, and the only reason he hasn't gotten up and moved to a new seat yet is because the guy hasn't flirted with him directly.

“You're Peter Parker, right?”

And _that_ finally makes Peter turn and get a good look. He doesn't know that many people on campus. The only ones that really recognize him by name are Ned, MJ, Flash and a handful of old Acadec friends.

The stranger sitting next to him is wearing black jeans, a black tee and a dark denim jacket.He's handsome, with hair between blond and brown grown out just long enough it's wavy, though that does nothing to distract from his jawline. He doesn't look like anyone Peter remembers- except for his eyes, which are an unforgettable, brilliant blue.

“I'm Harley Keener,” he says, and oh, Peter does know him. He knows that name. “I know it's been a couple years, but do you remember me by any chance?”

“Kind of.” It's a faint recollection- the lone boy standing by himself near the log house, dressed in black. Peter's memory is hazy, but he doesn't think he spoke to Harley. “You were at the funeral?”

“Yep,” Harley knocks back his tequila in one go. “The random kid at the back that nobody knew.” Some things that Tony said to Peter a long time ago come back to him.

“You were the one from Tennessee,” Peter says slowly, just in case he's getting this wrong. “Tony... broke into your garage.”

“Yeah, he did, and I nearly shot him with a potato gun for it.” Harley sighs. “Didn't think that was gonna change my life, but here I am now, going to uni on Tony’s money and fucking depressed now because of him.”

Peter doesn't think Harley would be so open about that unless he was sure that the two of them shared something. But he has to be certain.

“So you're like me?” He's not just referring to university as Peter scans Harley's face. If he was at Tony's funeral, a private event, then there's a reason.

_ Was he the closest thing you had to a father? _

_ Did he see you as his_ _ son, too?_

Harley considers Peter for a moment, deliberating, seemingly catching on.

“Yes, I am,” before leaning in closer, quieter. “Spider-Man.”

Honestly, the fact that he knows doesn't even bother Peter as much as he thinks it should. People keep finding out he's Spider-Man anyway regardless of what he does, and since Harley knew Tony it shouldn't surprise him. If Tony trusted Harley to keep that information a secret, then Peter can too.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Harley asks, as though nothing happened. Peter's gaze flicks over him again. Definitely cute, and now he knows that they have this connection through Tony.

“Sure, I’d like that,” he says. “Thanks.”

“You got it,” Harley replies easily, signalling for two more shots.

“Cheers,” he touches his glass to Peter's, “to feeling like shit more than anyone else.”

“Cheers to that.” Peter drains the shot in one swallow, and he feels a sense of companionship now, because Harley is one of maybe five people who can really comprehend what tonight means to him.

A lull sets in the conversation, and Peter can't stay here with the obnoxious televisions blaring their mindlessness about Tony.

“You’re not here with anyone, are you?” he asks, picking up his leather jacket from the back of his chair. He likes Harley so far, and wouldn't mind spending more time with him.

“Nah, came here to get away from people, actually.” Harley shifts in his seat. “then I saw you and wandered over.”

“Well, wanna go for a ride?” Harley lifts an eyebrow, and it takes Peter a second to realize what he's said. “I meant- um, I have a motorcycle, and I want to get out of this bar,” he clarifies. _Smooth, Parker._

“I think I got what you meant, just teasing ya,” Harley grins. “Saw it parked outside when I walked in, and sure, I'll go with you. But if you want to go the other way too, just let me know.” He winks while Peter stands up to pay for his own fuck-knows-how-many drinks, and although he really was being innocent with his earlier comment, whichever way this night ends with Harley Peter decides he’ll take it.

*****

“You ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

“I have one back in Rose Hill, actually,” Harley chuckles. “Before you ask, yes it's a Harley.” He’s seeming pretty stable after the couple of shots he’s had, though he still looks to have loosened up a bit.

“Not judging,” Peter smirks, and okay, maybe he is judging a little.

“Oh, that is gorgeous,” Harley breathes as he manages to get a closer look at the motorcycle. “Damn.”

“Yep, that's my girl.” A polished black and chrome thing that Peter bought not long after he started going to university. Since he was responsible enough with the money Tony left for him, it means Tony's unwittingly funded a few of Peter's luxuries, such as the motorcycle and the frankly scary amount of alcohol at the bar just now. “Oh, sorry. I don't have a helmet for you.” Peter's never driven with one; he knows his enhanced reflexes are fast enough that if he ever has a collision, it'll be bad enough that a helmet won't be of any help. If the cops care... well, Peter has bigger problems to worry about than a ticket.

“Don't worry about it. Since you're Spider-Man, I trust you know what you're doing.”

“Don't have that much faith in me,” Peter jokes, straddling the motorcycle and starting the engine. “So, where do you want to go?”

Harley settles himself behind Peter and wraps his arms around Peter's waist, which definitely isn't an unpleasant feeling.

“Anywhere you want.”

Peter doesn't have a specific destination in mind, so he speeds aimlessly through the streets of New York, which are less congested than in daytime. He can feel the wind through his hair, matching his pace as he blows past all the other vehicles. Cars have always been bulky, slow and constricting to Peter, at least since he got his powers. Motorcycles make him feel free, no matter where he's going. And judging from the way Harley is cheering behind him, he agrees too.

Actually, Harley is making every part of this ride better. His chest is warm against Peter's back, arms curled around his body, and his breath is hot against Peter's ear when he laughs in exhilaration. Peter wouldn't mind staying in this moment for as long as he can.

But the city is only so big and they can't drive forever, so eventually Peter leaves the motorcycle in a parkade a few blocks fromTimes Square, and they walk around from there. The night air is a little cooler, but not uncomfortable.

“So,” Harley says as they walk down the street, past late-night cafes and smiling couples.His curls are dishevelled from the wind earlier, and Peter has a sudden temptation to run his hands through them.“Tell me about yourself.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” he reaffirms. “All I know about you is that you're Spider-Man, you're pretty cute,” Peter tells himself not to blush, “and Tony told me you're a genius, yet you managed to set his lab on fire more than once.”

“Hey!” Peter protests. “That was only once. The other times was Dum-E.”

“Oh wow, I thought he was joking.” Harley laughs. “But seriously, tell me about you.”

“Uhm, I grew up in Queens, I graduated from Midtown School of Science and Technology, and I'm studying chemical engineering at NYU.” Peter tries to think of something that doesn't sound so plain. “Outside of school, I live with my Aunt May. She's still in Queens.”

“No parents?” Harley asks softly.

“They died a while back.” It's gotten easier for Peter to say that over the years. “I went to live with my aunt and uncle, and then Uncle Ben died too.” That's a little harder to admit.

“I'm so sorry,” Harley murmurs. “I don't have parents either. Dad walked out on my mom when I was six, and Mom died in an accident after the Snap. My sister's still in Tennessee.”

“Sometimes I wish I had siblings,” Peter says. “but then other times I'm okay being an only child.”

“Believe me, you don't want them,” Harley chuckles. “I mean, I do love Abbie, but she's also a little shit. Coming here for uni is a relief half the time.”

“What're you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering, third ye...” Harley trails off as he pauses by something on the sidewalk, Peter stopping beside him.

It’s a mural of Tony in his armor, and beside him is a child in an Iron Man mask, standing defiantly in the same pose with their hand outstretched. A few candles have been lit around the artwork, along with a some scattered flowers and a card. It awakens a memory in Peter’s mind, one that he tried to push before because it was too painful to look back on.

“You know, the Stark Expo all those years back?” he starts haltingly. “the one that got crashed by Whiplash, and Hammer Industries?”

“Yeah.” Harley’s voice is quieter.

“I was there. I looked just like that kid in the painting, wearing some oversized plastic mask. Tony saved me from being shot. I always thought that was the closest I’d ever get to meeting Iron Man.” The realization hits Peter. “I never got to tell him that.”

He stares at the mural, at Tony and the child that could be him. _Was_ him, at that Expo seventeen years ago. Peter’s not sure if he’s saddened by that fact now, just numb. Another item on the list of things he can never say to Tony.

“Hey.” Harley’s hand slides down Peter’s arm, lacing their fingers together. “It’s okay.” Even though they both know it’s not. Peter stands there for another minute, for- well, he doesn’t know. Some private moment of silence, maybe, before turning away, still holding hands with Harley.

As they wander closer to Times Square, Peter sees red and gold confetti strewn across the sidewalk. The noise and the music grows louder, too, but it does nothing to prepare Peter for what awaits him when they round the corner into the famous intersection.

Traffic has been shut down, and the area is packed with people, most of them wearing Iron Man masks or costumes. Some song is blasting at such a volume that Peter can feel the ground pulse, with people dancing to the beat. Streamers and confetti are everywhere, in the colors of Tony's armor. The flashing billboards have been changed from their usual signs to special advertisements by different companies, showing off Iron Man themed food, drinks and clothing. Peter can hardly stand to look, and he sees Harley's jaw set in a hard line.

In the Square, someone has a microphone.

“Let's give it up for one of Tony Stark's favorite songs!” There's a few whoops from among the crowd, and the music changes to the opening riff of Black In Black.

“C'mon,” he says to Harley, forcing himself down the road and away from the scene that's so fundamentally _wrong. _Peter looks up to the tops of the tall buildings surrounding him, the only place free of the awful sight, trying to process exactly what he just witnessed. And in doing so, begins to form an idea.

“Scared of heights?” he asks Harley.

“Most of the time, no. Why?”

“Alright,” Peter ducks into the nearest alleyway, taking Harley with him, and starts pushing up his jacket sleeves. He hasn't gone patrolling as Spider-Man for the last two weeks, since he knew that today was coming and it became unbearable to wear the mask, but whether from habit or possibly paranoia he still always wears the webshooters. “Hold on to me.”

“What?” Harley grabs Peter's arm. “Like this?”

“No- um,” Peter gently takes Harley's arms and drapes them around his neck, then tucks one of his own around Harley's waist. “Okay, now I mean it: Hold on.” Checking once to make sure no one is watching, Peter reaches up with his free hand and fires a web high up on the nearest building, swinging both of them into the air.

*****

“Holy shi-” Harley's cut off as Peter vaults them through the sky and over onto the rooftop. He actually can't look as they land, closing his eyes and burying his face in Peter's shoulder.

“Hey, look up,” he lets go of Harley. The building Peter chose isn't the tallest around, though it offers a decent overlooking of Times Square and parts of surrounding Manhattan.

“Whoa,” Peter hears Harley say.

“Yeah, it's pretty cool.” Harley turns around in amazement.

“How often do you take people onto rooftops like this?”

“Huh... actually, you're the first.” He's taken MJ swinging around the city as Spider-Man, when they dated in high school, but this is something new.

Honestly, Peter has no idea what he’s doing, bringing a guy he just met up on top of a building and flaunting his powers so completely, but part of him trusts Harley, and another part... another part is watching Harley run a hand through his hair, still wearing that beautiful expression of awe on his features, and deciding that Peter doesn't regret it at all.

Or maybe some of that alcohol just kicked in.

“Wow, then I feel really special.” Harley sits down on the edge of the roof, patting the space beside for Peter to join him. They sit in silence, swinging their feet over the side, watching the people below with a mixture of disgust and anger.

“That whole thing,” Peter waves down at the party on the ground, “just seems so commercialized. Look at the signs. There's companies making money off of Tony's death every year, and people buy into it.”

“It was a good day for a lot of people,” Harley shrugs. “They got their families and friends back. But they think of it as a holiday now. Tony's a symbol to them that they won, but they look at his face and they barely see the price that victory cost, now.

“And they don't know him, either, even if they pretend to. They'll play his favorite music, but they don't know what those songs meant to Tony and they don't want to find out, they listen to them just because it was something he liked.”

“He used to play Black In Black on repeat, in the labs when we were working,” Peter recalls. “Tricked me into thinking it was Led Zeppelin at first.” Harley smirks.

“Aw, sweetheart, if you can't tell AC/DC from Zeppelin...” Harley shakes his head, though Peter hopes the darkness masks the redness in his cheeks at the name. “He used to play it when I was with him too.”

“And Tony was so much... more than just someone famous, or a billionaire,” Peter reaches out for Harley's hand again, wanting that measure of security it brings him. “He loved his family, um, and he was... scared, I guess. He didn't want the people he loved to get hurt, and he felt guilty for things he couldn't control.” These were only things Peter had realized once time had gone by; a younger version of himself had thought that Tony was confident, and sure of whatever he did, and untouchable. “He was always giving back to others, being generous. Trying to help. I think he did more than enough good for the world to make up for whatever he might have done in the past, but... I don't know if he died knowing that.” Peter glances at Harley. “And not everyone got to know him like we did, but even after his actions that they watch on the news, all they see when they think of Tony is a perfect Avenger, or a myth.”

“To them he was a hero, but to us he was human,” Harley finishes. “Some people do want to celebrate and be happy, and I think I might get that, but you and me will never be able to because we saw him from a different perspective than others.”

“They'll never understand,” Peter whispers. Harley looks at him, the city lights reflected in his blue eyes.

“But I do.”

When Harley leans in and kisses him, to Peter it's not just that but also a gesture of _I know you, I understand you,_ and Peter doesn't want to let go.

He pushes himself backwards, away from the ledge, grabbing Harley by his shirt and tugging him forward without breaking the kiss. Closer, until Peter's kneeling in the gravel on the roof and Harley's straddling his lap, kissing him leisurely, slowly like they have all the time in the world and it feels _so good_.

Peter cards his hands through Harley's hair, tugging on the strands, and Harley lets out something between a moan and a gasp. He bends his head to nip at the spot behind Peter's ear, the contact making Peter shudder and grind up, once.

And suddenly it's not enough, nothing is enough. Peter needs more of Harley, he needs these clothes that they're wearing off and he needs to hear Harley make those sounds again. But not here, not on a damn rooftop in the middle of the city.

“Can we...” Peter has to pull away and stop for a breath before he can form the words. “Do you want to take this somewhere else?”

“Hmm... my place or yours?” Harley hums, hands sliding under Peter's shirt.

“Mine. My room's at the end of the hall and I don't have a roommate.” Peter stands up, reaching for Harley's legs so they drape around his waist and Peter is supporting his weight. With Harley clutching onto him, Peter steps off the roof and lowers both of them down with a webline without looking, so he can get in another kiss before they reach the ground.

*****

The way back to where Peter's motorcycle is parked is barely tolerable, but if that's difficult then the ride to the campus is pure agony. Harley's mouthing and nuzzling at Peter's neck from behind, or leaving featherlight kisses that do nothing to satisfy and he knows it. When he leans over to suck a bruise into the skin at the curve of his neck, Peter nearly swerves off the road.

“Harls, please,” he manages to choke out, “I have to get us home.” Harley laughs, laying off on that front for now, but the hand that was on Peter's waist slides lower and lower until it's dipping below his waistband, continuing to tease. By the time they reach Peter's room he's hard and aching and ready to _snap._

His hands are shaking as he unlocks the door, and once they're inside Peter accidentally slams it shut with too much strength, hearing a crunch as it drives itself into the doorframe. But he doesn't care, pinning Harley to the wall and sliding a leg between his thighs. Harley whines, bucking his hips into Peter at the friction, hands grabbing at his ass to pull him closer. His voice is growl of frustration as he claws at Peter's belt and demands, “Off.”

“Awww, you're a needy thing, aren't you?” Peter teases. Instead of obeying, he picks Harley up like he weighs nothing, earning him another moan as Peter walks across to his bed and sets him down.

By the time Peter's returned from the bathroom with lube and a condom, Harley is sitting up naked on his bed, fully hard and eager. With not much discipline left to hold off for longer, Peter quickly strips off all his clothes and settles himself between Harley's legs, meeting him in a harsh, biting kiss.

Prepping Harley doesn't take too long, thank god, although Peter is still sure to be careful, and soon enough he's got the condom on, pushing into him.

“Fuck, Peter, _move_,” Harley orders, and Peter loses all control, setting a fast, brutal pace that sends Harley raking his nails down Peter's back and rolling his hips up, slotting their bodies together until there's no space left between them. As he thrusts, he reaches for Harley's length and jacks him off, so it's not long before both of them are coming, choking out curses through shudders and gasps.

Afterwards, once they've both cleaned off, one look from Peter tells Harley that he's allowed to stay. Sliding under the covers beside Peter, Harley gives him a gentler kiss, one of simple comfort and reassurance. And before Peter drifts off with Harley in his arms, he finds himself smiling.

Because on this night, of all nights, it's nice not to be alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I say Top Peter Rights and you can't stop me. ;)
> 
> Also, this was the first time I've ever written anything even remotely close to smut, and this was as risque as I was comfortable writing for now, so if you found that painful to read then I do not hold it against you.
> 
> But if you did like this fic, then comments, kudos and bookmarks are welcome! If you didn't, if you want to leave some **_creative_** criticism in the comments, that would be great.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
